Illusion of Luck 11

“I’ll have the French toast with bacon—extra crispy. And coffee. Lots of coffee.”

Larry loved having a mid-afternoon breakfast at IHop. And he particularly liked this location because of its free wireless internet access. This time of the day there were plenty of empty tables. No need to rush.

He had to make some major decisions about his plot. What would his readers enjoy the most? One thing he knew for sure: the honeymoon night would end in disaster. He began to type.

The newlyweds would feel safe in their hotel room—their pas­sions raging exponentially higher with each touch, each kiss. So lost in their own world, they would never notice the intruder.

But just as they were about to enter the promised land, a sin­gle bullet to the temple of the husband would spoil their holy journey. And the wife would have just enough time to under­stand the horror of the situation before dying beneath her hus­band’s body. The killer’s face, not her husband’s, would be the final image in her terrified eyes.

Not bad, he thought. Only one problem—the story would end too soon. He needed a lot more chapters. It was a novel—not a short story. Besides, so far his storyline had followed his real-life adventures. And he certainly had no intention of kill­ing the bride. The husband could be knocked off—but not the wife. Larry wanted the wife alive, for himself. She shouldn’t be mar­rying that man anyway, he thought. She belongs to me.

Always has.

**********

Greg walked into the living room and sat down with Sandy, who was watching NBA highlights.

“How do you think the Mavs will do tonight?” said Greg.

“Well, Utah beat the Nuggets last night. So, I’m sure we can do the same tonight.”

“Sorry you have to miss the game.”

“No problem—I’m recording it.” Sandy checked his watch. “Only three hours until the wedding. But it’s still not too late to back out.” He whipped out his cell phone. “Want me to call Cynthia? I’ll let her down easy, Man—don’t worry.”

“You want me to grab that phone out of your hand and flush it down the toilet? I’m ready. So ready. Even if I am a little nervous.”

“About the honeymoon? Why? It’s not like y’all have never done it before.”

Greg watched the TV in silence.

“You’re kidding? Come on, Dude, you’re a musician. You mean to tell me you’ve never fingered Cynthia’s sousaphone?”

“Sandy!”

“Never stroked her viola with your bow? Never—“

“Stop! We’re virgins.”

“What? You’ve both been married before.”

“Well, we’re virgins to each other. At least that’s the way we look at it.”

“How sweet.”

“I knew you wouldn’t understand.”

“No, I don’t. But I respect you for it. Good for you.”

“Thanks.” Greg smiled.

“I just hope you can hold it until you get to the hotel.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’d hate to see you have a spontaneous combustion right in the middle of the ceremony.”

The scene flashed into Greg’s mind. “Oh, Man—I wish you hadn’t said that.”

Sandy grinned. “Your picturing it, aren’t you?” He started laughing. “I wish you could see the look on your face.”

“Great. You’ve just given me another thing to worry about. Thanks a lot, Sandy.”

“Well, I still don’t get why you’re worried about the honey­moon. Are you afraid you won’t live up to her expectations?”

“No…”

“Yeah—that’s it. You’re thinking: what if I’m not as good as the ex-husband?”

Greg didn’t speak.

“He was a big lineman-type guy, wasn’t he?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, you’ve got it all wrong. There’s no way she’s gonna be disappointed.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Wasn’t her ex an abuser?”

“Well, not at first, but yeah.”

“Then I guarantee you that’s what she remembers when she thinks about him. Any good lovemaking memories have been tainted by his abuse. But she knows you’ll never hit her or be mean to her. And after what she went through with him, there’s nothing sexier than knowing she’s with a man who’s gentle, kind and committed. When a woman truly feels safe with you, and she’s truly in love with you— that’s the ultimate turn-on, Buddy. I’m telling you.”

“Yeah, I guess. But since when are you an authority on this stuff?”

“What can I say? I watch a lot of Oprah.”

They both laughed.

“Okay,” said Greg. “Thanks.”

“So, just concentrate tonight. I’m sure you can keep little Greg in check while you kiss that gorgeous, sexy redhead in front of God and man.”

Greg punched him in the arm. “Stop.”

“Fine. How about a snack?”

**********

Rebecca always thought of her dad when she drank coffee. The two had downed gallons of the black stuff while she did P.I. work with him. She liked Starbucks because it was a handy place for her to use her laptop. But it was not the kind of coffee shop her dad frequented that had only regular or decaf. With no frilly options or foreign-sounding sizes.

She could just imagine what would have happened if he’d ever walked into a Starbucks.

“Give me a large coffee.”

“Grande or Venti?”

“What?”

“Which size did you want, Sir? Grande or Venti?”

“I want a large.”

“Medium or dark roast?”

“Son, I just want you to pour some coffee into a large cup. What’s so hard about that?”

No, her dad wouldn’t have liked this at all. But she sure wished he was here. She missed him every day. And right now she could use his help catching Melanie’s killer.

She wondered if Larry the Loser had killed his wife the way his alter ego did in the book. Probably, she thought. The scene in which the hooker was killed sounded exactly like what had really happened to her partner. If he had known Melanie was an attorney instead of a hooker, he might not have killed her. But even after he knew, he still bragged about the murder in his book.

She wanted to nail his balls to the wall. If he pulled a gun, she’d blow him away. But if she got the chance she would pro­long her enjoyment by torturing him first. She could lasso his neck and let him see what it feels like. She imagined sitting on his back, tightening the leather choker until he passed out. Then she would let him regain consciousness and do it again. He would plead for mercy as she took him to the brink of death over and over again. She would show mercy—to the same degree he had shown it to Melanie.

But she also wondered about the redhead. Larry seemed obsessed with her. And now his attempts, or his character’s attempts, to get her to call off the wedding had failed. What would be his next move?

His book said the wedding was on Satur­day and Rebecca assumed it was in Texas. So, she googled the phrase, ‘wedding announcements February 24 texas.’ If she could find a wed­ding scheduled for that day and there was a picture and the bride-to-be was a redhead…

She looked through several pages of wedding announce­ments, mostly listed in the online versions of local newspapers. Some of the pictures were in black and white. She began to wonder if it was just waste of time.

Finally she came across the wedding announcement page of the Coreyville Courier and spotted a beautiful redhead posing with her fiancé. Rebecca remembered that the woman in Larry’s novel had been a cheerleader in high school. Yeah, she thought, this woman definitely looks like the cheerleader type.

The ceremony was set for 7:00 PM. She checked her watch. Could she get there before it was too late?

She closed her laptop and rushed out to her car.